Limbo La-La Land

People like to ask where I am now and what I'm doing.  I certainly can't blame them because I have often (and still do) the same to others.  Like college students.  And high school seniors.  And retirees.  Poor people. 

They're great questions if you know the answers to them.  If you don't, I'm finding, at least for me, answering them requires lots of patience.  Or maybe it's humility.  I should just say, "I don't know," but I often chicken out and try to prettify my answer by relying on my "facility of language" to make the long explanation of options and choices and dilemmas concise enough to fit into a one-sentence answer. 

And believe me, I can create some very long sentences especially when I have fifty things to say and I really want to give you a complete picture of the ins and outs of my thinking because I really don't want you to think I'm a lazy person who has no motivation at all even though some days I feel like that and to prove it let me tell you I've applied here and there or recently found out information about this thing and that thing and, oh, yes, doesn't that sound great? and how on top of that I'm struggling with relationships and figuring out what normal is again and--oh, wait! I'm not finished yet but you have to run so I understand and yeah, we'll catch up again another time.  Hope you have a great day!

Whew.  That process has been agonizingly painful.  Almost every time.

It came to me this past weekend that the best answer for now is that I'm in Limbo La-La Land.  I'm limbo-ing between two states and between two vastly different paradigms of life while contemplating another in the name of figuring out what's best for me at this moment.  There is some definition on the horizon, but it's amazing how nebulous it appears from different daily vantage points. 

The not-too-funny ironic thing is, I fear I may be the one blurring something God sees as purely straightforward by residing in Limbo La-La Land.

ACT: The Remake

When one of my former colleagues asked me to assist with an ACT prep session, I figured that the best way to become familiar with the ACT again was to, well, take it.  The practice one, anyways.  At least the sections I was responsible for presenting.

I found that, as a high school English teacher, my ACT English score was pretty fantastic.  I'm sure it would have been absolutely perfect if I hadn't been watching TV at the same time as taking the test.

And as a person who hasn't had any math since the first year of college, my ACT Mathematics score left a little to be desired.  (Really, who expects us to remember the quadratic formula and how to solve equations with matrices?)

I find myself often reflecting on our system of doing things, and it sometimes annoys me both how much I am a product of our system and how much it influences my thinking.  So much so that acing the English part and not acing the Math part even now, as an adult, still gives me an alternative feeling of superiority followed by shame (and then a little pride that even so, it wasn't that low).  And I take a step back from the picture and...ridiculous.

Maybe, then, that's the advice I ought to take for myself and leave with the kids at some point during the session: the ACT may be your ticket to college and scholarships, but don't rely on it to define who you are. 

[There it is, that intangible catch phrase--who you are. I'm not sure which is better: the clearly defined path where you just go and do the next thing and it's there--high school, ACT/SAT, college, job--or this nebulous concept of doing those things to succeed in society but paradoxically superseding them to become who you are in spite of them.]

Birthday and Mother's Day

Officially turned another year older on U.S. Mother's Day.  Happy belated Mother's Day to all you mothers out there!  I am thankful for the love, guidance, and friendship of my own mother.  Love you, Mama! :)

Yep, I turned the big 2-9.  Last year in my third decade.  Can't believe I am twice as old as (or more) my students!  The La Senda kids have picked up on calling me Lizzy--until now, only a nickname from my family.  They derive it from Lizzy McGuire, of all things.

 Eating with the La Senda fam at Pollo Campero

 Waiting for the delicious fried chicken and French fries...

 Shout out from Steve at the other end of the table

 Birthday party at Silvia's house

 

The party crew

Mother's Day is a huge deal here in Guatemala.  In fact, unless they do domestic work, mothers get the day off.  At La Senda, we cancelled classes for all but those students who are behind, and only those of us childless teachers were required to work.  Hermana Zucy told me about El Tejar's tradition to serenade all of the moms by driving a truck around with the instrumentalists at 1 in the morning.  My friend Johana spent the day in Guatemala City with her mom and sister, shopping and eating out.  She said they ran across many other mothers doing the same thing.

Hermana Zucy worked with the La Senda kids to prepare a performance and breakfast just for Pam.  It was sweet!

 Kids all lined up and ready to sing for Pam on Guatemalan Mother's Day (May 10)

 Pam's mother Joyce and Pam--how fun that they were together on this day!

 Chatting it up

Group hug for mama

Un Vals Para Mi Madre--the Guatemalan Mother's Day song.  It's something, I was told, all Guatemalans know well.

Praise God from whom All Blessings Flow

I don't feel like I've praised and thanked God a lot lately, but I want to do so now:

• I thank him for my house.
• I praise him for his faithfulness.
• I thank him for his provision.
• I praise him for his love.
• I praise him for his goodness.
• I thank him that I am understanding Spanish better.
• I thank him for health.
• I thank him for people who care about me.
• I praise him that he knows all.
• I praise him that he is creative.
• I thank him that he wants us to grow and learn.

Stateside Travels

My mom let me borrow her car for two weeks.  It's the nicest set of wheels I've driven, I think.  And I sure put some mileage on them.

Had a great time returning to First Alliance a couple of Sundays ago. I've missed worshipping with my home church!  I also got to meet with Kerry, the mission pastor, and Beth and Pat and Art, the people who take care of all the money stuff for me.

Additionally, I was able to meet with a number of friends.  We had dinners together, met for coffee, and just hung out.  I visited Dunbar to say hello to my former colleagues; I also visited the classroom of one of my elementary teacher friends to see how she makes magic in a first grade classroom.  I put on my dancing shoes again, too--I still love dancing.  Got my teeth checked, eye glasses adjusted, and shots up-to-date as well.

In North Carolina, I got to relax a bit from all of this catching up.  I spent some time with my brother, who is off work right now trying to recover from a bad spell with MS, and with one of my college roommates. 

I also returned to FairCreek for a visit this past Sunday.  Though I didn't get to see everyone I hoped to see, I enjoyed catching up with a few friends whom I have known since childhood. 

This week I get the privilege of meeting with a few more friends here in OH, and then I'll get to go back to First Alliance in KY for Sunday services.  This time the 'rents are coming with me.

Thanks for making time for me, friends!  It is such a blessing and encouragement to see you all and to remain a part of your lives.

In Country

Two things I've noticed thus far:

1.) I'm short again.

2.) I can eavesdrop really well. 
"Just calling to say thank you..." "How ya'll doing?" "So I was talking to this security guard.  Not the security security, just one of those ones that helps..." "Uneventful..." "And I was like, what the *, I mean come on.  I'm not putting up with that..." "Were you visiting friends?"

Dancing Friday Nights Away

I walked into the studio tonight with my red flip flops on my feet, ready to change into my black, semi-strappy dance shoes.  My dress swished from side to side, perfect for fun little spins.  Once again, I was impressed by the number of people decked out in costumes: tonight, flapper dresses, little bowling hats, and suits conveyed the atmosphere of the Roaring '20s along with the shimmering streamers and Charleston-inspired dance music every now and again.

My dance instructor quickly found me to tell me his good news: an agent is interested in his book!  Thrilled, I listened to the details as he animatedly told me his plan to meet deadline.  His book-writing process has become a bit of a vicarious experience for me as I've been privileged enough to hear the full story line, listen to the soundtrack (cool idea, huh?), and read a few of the chapters to help edit.  Engrossed in the discussion of revisions, I nearly missed the call for the Viennese Waltz.  But it was the same song they play nearly every week, the one that a friend despises because it reminds him of a Merry Go-Round.  Tonight, though, I shook off the normal eye-role induced by the music and interrupted the conversation because I was on a mission: dance.

Sure enough, my Viennese Waltz instructor was in period wear and not yet taken for the dance.  Before I knew it, I was rocking with him to feel the beat and then lickety-split, off we were spinning around the dance floor.  If anything at ground level can rival flying, this dance has got to be it.  The movement is so quick, the heel step step, back step step, rotate around your partner and the dance floor all at the same time--it's exhilarating.  And tiring.  I was breathing like I'd just run for five or ten minutes when we finished, but I was glad I had made it through without causing either one of us to stumble and fall.  What a way to warm up!  I think this is my new favorite dance, even though two lessons in it doesn't quite make me a pro.

With forty-five minutes left, I was eager to dance as much as possible.  I danced the waltz with my regular instructor, the rumba with my good ol' buddy Lee (I tried to practice my Cuban hip motion), the hustle with the man who is actually a bit shorter than I am.  I was reminded while dancing the cha cha with a teenager that my Latin dances have seen little improvement lately, which was confirmed when I tried salsa with my usual waltz partner.  In between dances, it was fun to chit chat with friends, most female, since there is a shortage of men at these things.  And then, after a rough swing dance or two, the party was over. 

I'll certainly miss going every Friday night.  I just might have to search for Latin dancing in Guate.

My book-writing dance instructor

My fellow educator friends

My fellow ministry friend

(I really wanted to get more pics, but the instructor meeting was taking too long and some of my regular dance friends weren't there tonight. :(  Oh well.  Memories will work!)

Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow

Praise God from whom all blessings flow; praise Him all creatures here below; praise Him above ye heavenly host; praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

I just met with Kerry regarding financial support and how things will work with First Alliance as my sending organization.  Oh. My. Goodness.  I am in awe and completely humbled by his provision!  I have believed that God would provide for this Guatemalan Adventure, but to see it's manifestation is overwhelming and deeply appreciated.  I am currently about half way to where I need to be financially (it's slightly flexible because I'm doing my best to guesstimate my budget, but it won't be confirmed until I arrive in Guate).

Thanks to everyone who has decided to support this venture through money, prayer, and/or encouragement.  I admire your obedience and your faithfulness.  Thanks!

I continue to feel like the Lord is affirming this next step for me.  Today, it's through money; yesterday, though the ability to finally slow down and relax (and be okay with it); this last week, through the peace and sense of rightness I have while packing up my classroom, even though I feel sad at times; this last month, through people's words and actions showing me their support and love.  I am so blessed.  And all I have left to say is Praise the Lord!

Two Weeks Till Take Off

What a busy week!  With graduation, packing up my classroom, and my roommate's wedding, I really wished my body could function sans sleep.  Unfortunately, I was reminded once again that sleep is necessary.  Thankfully, I have understanding friends and finally some time to rest, so all is better. 

My roommate's wedding was awesome, by the way.  The day turned out to be sunny and perfect, and their personal touches were all throughout their day from their written vows to the old, borrowed, blue and unique brooch on Mary's bouquet.  I am so happy for Mary and Gabe!

Last minute touch ups!

First Dance!

The bridesmaids.  Yes, two are in their third trimester of pregnancy.

Me and my wonderful friend Carly!

Yay life group girls and Mary!

This week is one of completely cleaning out my classroom, packing up the house, and seeing friends.  Today I was blessed to spend time with my dancing friend Abigail, and I enjoyed my last dinner with the Tuesday night crew.  Yesterday I spent time with the Sassy Sisterhood, but it's not farewell yet since Nikki's getting married this weekend!  :) I've also been able to squeeze in a few coffee discussions. 

My friend Abigail and me--she's been a huge encouragement to me in this Guatemalan adventure!

A very serious round of Bocce ball.

Tuesday night dinner crew--view from my end of the table.

Yes, Matt and Chris are smoking Matt's birthday candles.  I have yet to understand the male species.

Tomorrow I meet with Kerry to talk about support stuff.  Looking forward to it!

Memorial Day Weekend Haikus

On stick-shift driving lessons #4 & #5:

Trust me to drive you

wherever you need to go

but not in reverse

On my sister's report on her mad egg salad/deviled egg-making skills:

"My favorite part

is popping out the yellow

inserts." Yolks, sweet sis! :)

On cookouts:

Grilled zucchini and

burgers; chips and dip; fresh fruit.

Family, friends, sun. Joy.

On the occasion:

Burning desert: dry.

Soldiers, far from home: brave.

Freedom: expensive.

Thanks to those who serve!

Transition Time

The blessing of having a zillion papers to finish grading, a room to clean up, and last-minute details to plan is that it leaves little time to think about leaving and all that nostalgia.  However, when I see something I would normally save for use next year or think about taking the MISS DAVIS letters off my classroom door, I can't help but grow a little teary-eyed.

At the same time, I've enjoyed touching base with Pam in Guatemala.  It looks like I have four living options right now that I can check out upon my arrival.  I also look forward to baby-sitting the English kids so Pam and Steve can take the home children on little trips to the country.

My friends and family continue to be generous in their support.  Thanks, guys!  Your prayers, words of encouragement, notes, and monetary support are much appreciated!  I hope to send a formal update to everyone soon.

A Good Shot...or Not

After going shooting on a piece of undeveloped land with my friends today, my experience and my friend LB's observations have led me to develop ten reasons why you should not hire me as a bodyguard:

1. I find picking daisies much more intriguing than playing with guns.  Let's focus on the aesthetics, not violence, people.
2. My arms are too weak to bear the weight of a rifle for very long.  This rules out the military (or a job as a sniper) as a career, I'm pretty sure.
3. I'm tired of shooting any gun after about two shots.  Really, 20 rounds in one magazine?  Yawn.
4. The stench of putrid gunpowder burns my nose and is highly distracting.  Can I protect anyone else when I'm worried about polluting my own lungs?
5. I much prefer lying in the grass and cloud-watching than shooting up targets when in a field.  Wordsworth, you are such an inspiration.
6. I quickly lose interest in analyzing the accuracy of my shooting when there are periwinkle butterflies floating around the targets.  I heart nature.
7. I'd like to keep my hearing, thank you very much.  Wearing big bulky ear protection doesn't fit my sense of style.
8. Shooting pistols almost makes me cry.  Seriously--it was a good thing I was wearing sunglasses.  It would be hard to defend anyone if I were crying at the same time.
9. My interest in learning to shoot is purely literary.  My mind goes more quickly to how I could name the parts and describe a gun than it does to using it in defense.
10. It would take me about five minutes to reload.  Last time I checked, bad guys don't usually agree to time outs.

Sure, I hit the bull's eye a couple of times (out of 200), but today confirmed what I learned last time I went shooting:  I sure have a strong distaste for it.  I might even despise it.  I pray I will never need to shoot a gun in real life.

Unmentionables

The bride, a good friend from work, sat up front on a yellow streamer-decorated chair.  She sat opening gifts, commenting on how much she loved them and how excited she was to receive them.  And then came the one.  You know, the one that is meant to make the bride blush. 

Out of the simple white gift bag with a few ones sticking out teasingly over the edge, my friend pulled a thong.  Then came the leopard print lingerie, matching top and bottom.  All had several ones and fives pinned to them.  We chuckled and joked and measured the degree of redness in her cheeks.

Meanwhile, a little three-year-old boy ran in and out of the room, chasing his friend.  He firmly clutched the rubber band of a giant balloon, one that had been decorated with a smiling face, square ears, and a mustache that gave the boy unending amusement.

As my friend pulled out this bridal shower present, the boy stopped in his tracks.  His eyes grew large, and his lips opened into a wide smile.  He looked at the adults in the room with a look of mischief, glancing back and forth between the gift and the adults.  We women seemed to draw in a collective sigh, not sure how this delicate situation could be explained.

"What do you see, honey?" queried his mother.  The room grew silent, ready to pop under the pressure.

The boy hardly missed a beat.  With one more glance toward the bride, he gave his excited answer:

"Money!  Did you see the money, mommy?"

Laughter.  Love wise mommies and innocent children.

Happy Mother's Day

What a lucky girl I am to have such a wonderful mother!  We're two peas in a pod in so many ways.  Love you, Mom!  Since the fam was in town, I was able to be with them for Mother's Day lunch at Saul Good.  Great meal, great restaurant, better company.

My awesome parents

Siblings!  So glad Tina and Davey were in town

Backseat beauties (always a hoot to ride with three full-sized adults in the back seat)

Birthday

Okay, so my birthday can get better. :)  Thanks so much to my roommate and best friend for throwing me a surprise party with friends and family--many of the people I hold so near and dear to my heart were in one room tonight!  What a blessing.  Plus, my parents bought me a camera since my old one died last fall...which means I have pics to upload!

Great friends (and some yummy pies to boot!)

My dear mentor

My brother--great support

Me & the Tuesday Night Dinner Boys

The Sassy Sisterhood (Minus a couple of members--love you gals!)

Las Tres Amigas--My lovely friends and me (see my red shoes?)

I am so blessed.  Looking forward to spending Mother's Day with my mom.  More pics tomorrow with the fam, I hope!

Today's Thoughts

It's my birthday!  My family is coming down! It's sunny outside!  Can a girl ask for more?

Thought of the week, via our dear friend C.S. Lewis and his book The Weight of Glory in A Year with C.S. Lewis: "No man who values originality will ever be original.  But try to tell the truth as you see it, try to do any bit of work as well as it can be done for the work's sake, and what men call originality will come unsought."  Hmmm.  Time to be intentionally me, I suppose.

La Senda update:  Found out that the well is broken at La Senda and has been for a couple of days.  Stinky bodies and no flushing toilets--pray that it gets fixed soon so home life and school life can be restored to normal!

Semi-Sweet Week

Love chocolate.  Dark chocolate has grown on me of late; milk chocolate is a classic favorite; semi-sweet chips, good for baking.  Also good for describing this week.

For the first time in four years, banquet was exactly as a I dreamed it to be.  Students and parents actually came, for one, and they seemed excited to be there.  It was a sweet time of recognition of students, group hugs, and memories.  A perfect way to end my four years of sponsorship.

Today was the bittersweet portion.  I turned in my resignation.  You would have thought the world was coming to an end.  But no, I just had to type three simple paragraphs and walk it to the office.  Never thought it would be so hard.  It's been awhile since I've felt that alone.  Slowly, slowly, I'm snipping the tethered lines of my life here, readying myself to float away to the next stage.  Sometimes, though, the lines seem to be alive, tendrils of me that bleed when cut.

One thing I'm hanging on to--for one more month, anyway--is dance.  Love to dance.  Rumba, salsa, and waltz are my favorites.  Those are pretty sweet, too. 

Still, I will praise God in semi-sweet weeks.

Roman Omens

It's that time of the year, when the blocks, stones, and worse-than-senseless things rise up to hail Caesar in spite of a manipulative Cassius and a Brutus (wrought from that which he was disposed) plotting to reverse their falling-sickness by removing the unshakeable North Star.

Yes, it's Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. Act 1, scene 3, to be exact. The Bruce Almighty clip scene (Cassius renders in nearly perfect Shakespearean, "Smite me you mighty smiter!" baring the chest and everything). The men walking around on fire, lion in the street, owl in the market place scene. Perfect time to make text to world connections. What are your personal superstitions?

My favorite student response in this conversation? Amidst the black cats, the broken mirrors, and the foreboding ladders, the classic step on a crack, break your mother's back came up. My student, and I quote in close approximation, piped up in agitation:

"Yeah, that one don't work. I've stepped on a million cracks and that woman is still up and walking around!"

Signed, Sealed, and Soon Delivered

It's official, people! The support letters are in the mail and will soon arrive at your door. Guatemala or bust! PTL!

On another note, I had stick-shift driving lesson #3 yesterday, courtesy of one of my Tuesday night dinner buddies. Unfortunately, the lesson only lasted 15 minutes with me behind the wheel. No, I did not run over any old ladies. And no, I did not crash into any garage doors (or trashcans or parked cars). The brakes went out on me. Completely out. I was pressing the clutch and the brake peddle to the floorboard, fully extending my short little legs as far as they could stretch, but to no avail. Fortunately, at my panicked cries of "I don't think the brakes are working! The brakes aren't working! The brakes aren't working!" my instructor yanked the emergency brake. The good news was that I never made it over 20 MPH, so we stopped with plenty of room around us on the slightly inclined parking lot.

One thing was made clear in my short lesson time...I'm going to be in a pickle if I ever have to change gears while accelerating up a hill.

A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: Donald Miller's latest book

Fifteen hundred miles in six days. That's what's ready to roll over on my odometer. I needed to get out, go to the mountains and the beach. I didn't completely understand why; I just knew I needed to refocus and be part of a new setting.

Having heard Donald Miller speak at a local mega church a few weeks ago, I picked up his latest book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, before leaving town. He was inspirational when I heard him speak; finishing his book nearly made me giddy with excitement about life's next step. Though his intention doesn't seem to be purely motivational, his honesty about his own journey to improve his life story fosters a deep desire to follow in his footsteps. And unexpectedly, he helped me understand why I had to get away.

As an English teacher, I am not shocked by Miller's definition of a good story as a character who wants something and must overcome conflict to get it. Many times I have stressed that same concept to my students: a story does not exist without conflict. If you're writing, you have to let your characters get hurt.

What shocked me were the nearly perfect parallels to life that Miller draws between our lives and story. This is where the revelation came. How do we expect to get to the end of life and tell a good story if all we do is try to live comfortably? (I woke up. I ate breakfast on my way to work because I was running late. I worked. I got home late. I watched TV. I maybe phoned a friend, if I felt like it.) How boring!

Through his life experiences--namely, the making of his life into a movie (along with his thoughts, his encounters with friends and strangers, and his adventures)--he explores the concept of story and how each key component relates to our own lives. Conflict, character, setting--all of it matters. All of it serves to make life meaningful.

In essence, Donald Miller has written a treatise on the meaning of life without the high-and -mighty philosophizing or a trumpet title touting a discovery of the key to life. Instead, he creates this understanding through a vulnerability in his writing that opens a window into his corner of the world. He lets us peer into his thought processes as he realizes what it takes to live a good story and then begins to toddle towards living it. How we interact with others, what motivates us, how we acknowledge God, what we make of little and big moments--all come into play as he (and we) builds up his life's leg muscles and starts to walk confidently.

Much of what he said hit home. But what unlocked my need to get away was his discussion of scene. A good movie, his movie making friends told him, must have a good scene. It must be memorable. It doesn't just happen at the usual places. It has to be unique. Stand out.

At this crucial time of refocusing in my life, I too needed a scene that would reflect this search, this processing. Without knowing what it was, I was driven to find those scenes. Fortunately, I found them. The hawks swooping down from the pinnacle of the mountain, the wind making music on their wings. A thousand little lady bugs crawling over the rock face. A road winding through blooming trees of varying hues. The moon illuminating a path across the ocean. The sun creeping up over the horizon, rising boldly to take his place as master of the day. The pelicans flying in tight formation over the surf.

Knowing what motivated me to travel makes me think. Perhaps this desire to live a good story is innate. Maybe we don't have to identify all parts of the story, though knowing can help us be intentional. Perhaps we just need to choose to live it, risks and all.